Stolen
by foreveryours66
Summary: Her mother is dead. Her father hates her. Her friends don't know how to help her. Gabriella's life is spinning out of control and she doesn't want a part in it anymore. Can she save herself before she's pushed over the edge or will it be to late?
1. Hatred

So I'm new to the HSM fandom, but I've been reading so many amazing fanfics that I wanted to try to write one. I've had this idea in my head for about three months now but I never go down to writing it. This is just a prologue really, so It's not the first chapter but I'm calling it the first chapter be cause otherwise I'll confuse myself.

I really hope you all enjoy it and I'll try to make this story as unique and interesting as possible. It might get a little graphic, I'm not sure how much is a little though, nothing that requires me to change the rating from T to M that's for sure. If you like my story, thank you3

I'm not exactly sure how much I'll be updating this, I'll try my best to update at least once a week, but I'm not good with updating, my life is just way to hectic.

So without further adue, my new story/first ever HSM fanfic:** Stolen.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything but my plot and maybe an original character or two.**

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><p><strong>Stolen<strong>

**Chapter one: Hatred**

**Hatred: noun-the feeling of one who hates; intense dislike or extreme aversionor hostility**

They hadn't seen each other in three years. Since she left for phoenix with her mother on whim, out to free themselves of the vise grip hold her father had had on their lives, holding them back, taking the innocence out of both of their lives. She had promised, promised with all of her heart and soul that neither of them would ever have to see him again, that those days were over and done, they were safe now and they would never go back, only accept that it happened and try to make their lives better. They weren't responsible for what had happened in Albuquerque, and there was no use in blaming themselves for it, the only thing her mother had asked of her was to move on and trust that they wouldn't have to go back to him.

But that's all gone now, every promise she'd ever made had been broken.

She hated her; she hated her with every fiber of her being and in every bone in her body. She hated her so much she had taken the small picture on her bed side table of the both of them and had taken the edges between her fingers, tearing, tearing, tearing, and tearing the photo of their smiling faces until all she was left with was pieces so small she couldn't hold a single glossy piece in between her four fingers long enough to tear it.

So she got a pair of scissors and started cutting those small pictures into even smaller pieces. Then she gathered them up and threw them in the burning fireplace.

She hates her. Oh, god, how she hates her with such a burning passion.

How could she do this? How could she leave her here with him? She said she loved her and then she leaves her with the likes of him.

What went so wrong that her life went from normal to hell in one night? It was all her fault, all of it, it was all her fault. What had she been thinking?

She hadn't been thinking that's what went wrong. She went out with her friends so she could "de-stress". What does that even mean, "de-stress", what stress? She never complained about stress, she was so happy and content with her life, all she did was talk about how happy she was that she was finally living the life she always felt that she should have been living, but was taken away. She lied, that was the only explanation; if she wanted to go out with her friends and have a drink or two, that was fine. She is- was- a mother for goddamn sake, not some reckless, horny teenager. She had promised she would be back home before she woke for school in the morning. But when she woke no one was home.

She missed her, and she hadn't been there that morning, she wasn't home and she would never be home, because she was up there. And that wasn't home.

Heaven, Gabriella was starting to believe, was just another made up story parents told their children, like Santa Clause, or the Tooth Fairy, something to just keep their children wondering just a little longer because they didn't want to tell their 6 year old Johnnie that Santa isn't real and it's all a lie, because you see Johnnie, adults are cowards when it comes to the truth. She hated all these people around her, clad in their black clothes, clutching tissues to the chests. Some were actually crying, as in openly. The gall these people had, acting like they knew her mother, like they actually felt bad for Gabriella, like they felt her pain. And oh god, if some old wrinkly lady with bluish grey hair pulled her in for another bone crushing hug, she was going to scream. And why were all these people telling her that her mother was in a better place now? Gabriella refused to believe it, because what place could be better than here, with her family alive and healthy. Living.

Because that body in the pristine white coffin was not living.

Her mother was dead.

And Gabriella missed her.

But she hated her more.


	2. Dread

**Stolen**

**Chapter Two: Dread**

**Dread:**_**adjective-**_**to fear greatly**

I hate my life.

Sometimes I find myself lying in my bed at night crying. But it's not a sobbing cry, it's more of a silent, tears rolling down my face for no reason cry.

And then I feel the salty tears on my cheeks and my mind makes up scenarios that I know aren't true, but in the middle of the night no one is there to tell me that these thought aren't true. So I start to cry more. And my mind makes up more scenarios; my friends hate me, that's why they didn't come over today, and now they're talking about how much they hate me. I'm ugly, and that's why I've never had a boyfriend. I'm worthless, that's why my father hates me. I deserve the bruises on my stomach and shoulders, because I did something wrong. My mother is dead because of me, because I was selfish, and I acted like I hated her, so she had to go and find love somewhere else.

Its nights like this that I wish my mother were still alive, that we still lived in phoenix and I could get out of my small bed in my small room and walk into hers across the hall and just curl up with her arms around me telling me that everything would be okay.

But I can't do that anymore because she's dead and I'm stuck here in this damn hell hole with a tyrannical father that hates me.

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><p>It's been two months. Two months since her body was found under the freeway. A month and a half since I moved back to Albuquerque. A month since I've started back at East High.<p>

And still, people won't stop staring at me. I hate when people stare at me. They think I'm some kind of animal. I hear them, in the bathroom, when I pass whispering groups in the hallway and during lunch. They think I did it.

They think I killed my mother.

But that morning I didn't care about the whispers, and the fingers pointed in my direction, and I certainly didn't bother to notice how as I walked down the hallway toward Sharpay's locker everyone seemed to part like the red sea. I was much too tired to care.

Or at least I acted like I didn't care.

"Why is everyone still staring at me?" I questioned leaning against the red locker next to hers. She turned her head to the left and then to the right before flipping her long straight blonde hair over her shoulder and looked at me straight in the eye before saying, "because they're all bitchy little school girls who have nothing better to do but to terrorize others."

"Even the boys?" I couldn't help the small grin that pulled at my lips,

"Especially the boys, god, do you have any idea how much guys gossip, they're like old ladies in a salon getting their hair done." She rolled her brown eyes before turning back to her reflection in the mirror. "Ryan totally ditched me this morning, I had to take my own car, it was horrible, do you know how hard it is to drive in three inch heels?"

"Um… no," I said looking down at my tattered converse, dark jeans, and Coldplay concert tee-shirt.

"Well, it's hell. When I see him I'll kill him." I laughed. "You think I'm joking," she stated.

"Shar, you threaten to kill Ryan every other day. If you really wanted to kill him, you would've done it already."

She rolled her eyes, grabbed her designer purse from the bottom of her locker, and slammed her locker door closed, rather dramatically I might add.

"I hate you." She groaned, before she smiled and trotted off to the girl's bathroom leaving me with a pang in my heart and tears welling up in my eyes.

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><p>Taylor caught up with me before lunch and made me eat. She put a ham and cheese sandwich, a bottle of water, and a chocolate chip cookie on my tray, paid for it herself and told me that if I didn't eat at least the sandwich she would tell my dad.<p>

Because she doesn't know what he's really like.

So I sat down at our table across from her and unwrapped my sandwich, but I didn't eat it, I tore off a small bite and when she jumped up from her seat to hug her boyfriend, Chad, I threw it on the floor.

"Eat the rest of that sandwich and I won't tell Taylor what you just did." I jumped and turned around just in time to see Troy sliding into the seat next to mine.

"I hate ham and cheese." I grumbled and Troy sighed taking the sandwich from my hands and replacing it with a peanut butter and jelly.

"Who's ready to party this weekend?" Jason basically yelled across the cafeteria.

Sharpay slammed her tray down on the table, "its Monday dumbass," Ryan slipped by her rolling his eyes at his twin sisters' theatrics and settled into the chair opposite of troy.

Jason shook his head, "When has that ever stopped you before?"

I lifted my head slightly, just in time to see Sharpay's eyes flick over to me and then back at Jason. He looked in my direction and lowered his head mumbling a "sorry" and slouching down in his seat so far his butt hung off.

Everyone got quiet for a few very awkward minutes before Chad threw his half eaten pizza down with a sigh, "This food is shit. They claim to be selling us healthy food, but look" he held up his pizza for us all to see "the middle of the sausage is pink!"

"I hate this school." Sharpay mumbled picking at her salad.

"Speaking of food, where's Zeke?" Taylor asked and everyone looked at Sharpay.

She flipped us off before saying, "He went to the home ec room to cook, and eat you know, real food. Not any of this processed garbage. I hate him."

"You hate everyone." I said pointedly.

"This is true." Troy laughed, taking another bite out of his sandwich. Luckily Taylor was too busy finishing her extra credit homework for chemistry to notice I hadn't eaten anything.

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><p>Each time the big hand on the clocked moved forward a bit I wanted to die.<p>

But soon the bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, I stayed behind as long as I could, putting my books and folders into my bag at such a slow pace Mr. Fallston let out an audible sigh, clearly annoyed at my slow pace. And he's closing in on eighty.

I hoisted my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the classroom heading for the gym so I could wait on Troy and Chad to get done with basketball practice.

I found the big red doors half open and the sound of basketballs hitting the polished wood floor floating into the hallway. I climbed the bleachers as quietly as I could, I was allowed to be here but I never liked to make much noise to draw attention to myself.

I settled on a bleacher in the middle of the stands pulling out a copy of Romeo and Juliet; the play we were supposed to be reading for English and tried to read but as soon as I got interested in the play a loud noise made me jump and look up just in time to see Chad catching the basketball he'd thrown at a bleacher and look up in my direction with a smirk.

I smiled back even though my heart was beating a thousand times faster than it should have been beating. I hate loud noises.

Chad was my best friend. I've known him since I was three, we live next door to each other; have since before we were even thoughts in our parents' minds. He's been there since the very beginning. He's the one I call when my dad gets mad, and when my mother was found, I called Chad. He's the only person that knows me; the real me.

After Chad, is Sharpay, we became best friends in preschool when she punched a little boy in the nose for spilling Kool-Aid on my favorite pink dress. Ryan Just comes along with Sharpay; you can't really get rid of one without getting rid and the other. And then Zeke came along in seventh grade he became a permanent fixture in our group of friends when he formed a crush on Miss Sharpay Evans herself. We met Taylor and Jason at a party our ninth grade year, Sharpay and Chad had gotten drunk with Jason in Alan Berkley's bathroom and Taylor blamed Sharpay and Chad for getting her best friend drunk that she threatened to pull out Sharpay's five thousand dollar hair extensions. Then Troy stepped in and charmed everyone into settling down.

Troy and Chad met in seventh grade when they were put on the same basketball team. For the first three months in our friendship Troy and I hated each other because the first time we met he stepped on my shoes and scuffed my new flats. But then I found out that the only reason he was hostile towards me was because he had a crush on me. But he doesn't like me anymore and now we just hate each other whenever we feel like it.

By the time practice was over I'd finished about a quarter of the play. As I followed behind Chad and Troy out to the back parking lot toward their cars my stomach started churning.

I was going home. I silently prayed that he wouldn't be home because if he wasn't home by the time I was, that usually meant he wouldn't be home that night and I wouldn't have to deal with him.

Troy said goodbye and headed over to his new car and Chad and I got into his car, as he pulled out of the parking lot in the direction of our houses he continued to talk about how excited he was for the game Friday, but I wasn't listening.

The whole was home my mind was reeling, what would he do if he was home? Oh, god, I was dreading the moment was turned onto the street. He was going to be home, I could feel it in my bones, we were going to turn onto our block and his car would be in the driveway, I wouldn't even have a chance to catch my breath before he was on me.

"Gabriella!" Chad yelled shaking my shoulder slightly; he looked at me with concern.

"What?" I asked my throat tight; we were a good two minutes away. I wanted to throw up.

"Are you okay?"

I gave a small grunt because what could I say? 'No, Chad I'm not okay because I'm going home to my father.' No, I can't tell him that I don't want to go home, he thinks that my dad has been getting help, if I tell him that he hasn't he'll just get worried and tell his mother who will call the police and then he'll get even more mad and he'll take it out on me.

It's just better to keep this all to myself.

But as we turned onto our street there wasn't a car in the driveway and I let out the breath I'd been holding.

I was safe for tonight.

Hopefully you liked the second chapter, I'm going to try to make this as interesting as i can.

I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed and tell me what you think, whether it be good or bad or if you have any suggestions, I'm always open to suggestions and constructive critisism.

Thank you for reading 3


	3. Panic

**Stolen**

**Chapter Three: Panic**

**Panic: noun- A sudden, overpowering terror, often affecting many people at once.**

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><p>It was right there. I couldn't stop staring at it. It could end all of my problems with just one little swipe. All I had to pick it up and grip it in my hands.<p>

I picked up the small razor, it would be easy. No one would notice if I was gone. Hell my father would be relieved; first my mother and now me. He'd be ecstatic.

Sure Chad would be sad, but he'd get over it, he does have Troy. And Sharpay wouldn't have to deal with how unfashionable I am. Taylor wouldn't have to motivate me to do stuff; she wouldn't have to act like my mother anymore. Jason sure as hell wouldn't care, and if he did he'd just drink his troubles away. Zeke and I don't talk much so my death probably wouldn't affect him at all. I could imagine Ryan would be fairly sad, but the fall musical is only a few months away, he'd be more preoccupied with the play than mourning me. Troy would get over it, the basketball season just started and he was voted captain so the enthusiasm he feels would most certainly trump my death. And god knows the kids at school wouldn't care, they thrive on gossip.

It'd be so easy, I grazed the blades over the fragile skin covering my wrist, it nicked and snagged at certain places, burned a tiny bit and bled a little, but when I pressed my fingers to the small round cuts it and pulled back nothing was there, it looked as if I hadn't done anything.

Was it really that easy? Could I really just run the razor over my wrist and be over a done with this hell hole?

I took a deep breath and pulled the shower curtain back and looked toward the door, making sure that it was locked. I waited a few moments, making sure that I was the only one home.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, my hands were shaking and I was scared. But this was for the better. No one would care and I wouldn't feel this horrible ache in my body every day.

I pressed the razor against my skin as hard as I could, breaking the skin, watching the blood flow down, down, down. Down my arm, off my elbow, down my stomach, down my legs and into the drain.

It was memorizing. The way the red tinge would turn to a pinkish color the longer it mixed with the hot water.

It hurt, it hurt so much, I didn't think it would hurt this much. But it felt good all the same, it felt freeing, like I could finally think about something else besides how much life sucked.

I pressed harder and slowly slid the razor to the right. It hurt the farther I kept going and tears sprung in my eyes. But I didn't stop. I was committed to this.

I closed my eyes against the traitorous tears and pressed harder.

I felt good. It all felt good, sure the pain was torture but if I didn't think about it, it wasn't all that bad.

I pressed harder, a numbing sensation filling my body.

And that was when I heard the front door slam close.

I gasped a jerked the razor away from my wrist and looked down. A medium sized portion of skin was gone and my wrist was bleeding at a slow steady rate.

I panicked, I couldn't get caught, I couldn't, it would ruin everything. They'd make me get help; they'd tell me I was sick.

I wasn't sick; I just didn't want to live anymore. Everyone feels that way at some point. I'm just merely acting on my impulse; I'm being brave and doing what my mind is telling me too. I've always acted with logic; using my brain instead of my heart.

"Gabriella!" oh, god, it was him. He was going to be so mad at me. God, what was he going to do this time?

I gasped for breath jumping out of the shower and throwing on my pajamas as quick as I could. I didn't want him to see me like this. Naked and vulnerable; he'd just take advantage of me. I grabbed the first dark towel I could find and put as much pressure as I could onto my wrist.

"Gabs!" He was getting closer, my breath sped up and I gripped my wrist as tight as I could.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and laughter, was he drunk? Please, please don't be drunk, it's always worse when he's drunk.

"Where the fuck is she?"

"I don't know man, why do we even have to ask her? Let's just do it."

Wait, since when did he bring a friend home?

I heard a loud banging down the hall, "Gabs! It's Chad, I gotta ask you something!"

Chad, it was just Chad. Why had I thought it was him, he wasn't coming home tonight. They didn't even sound alike. I was going crazy that's all there is to it.

No, I wasn't crazy.

I opened the bathroom door, and Chad turned around with a smile on his face, "We've been outside bangin' on your door like the last five fucking minutes! What the hell have you been doing?" he smirked.

"I was just-"

"What the fuck did you do to your wrist?" a voice exclaimed behind me, I turned around to find Troy looking down at me with concern.

"Gab?" Chad questioned coming over to me and grabbing my arm,

"You guys just scared me. I thought I was going to be home alone tonight." I shrugged, trying to pull my arm away from Chad when Tory grabbed my shoulders from behind and Chad yanked the towel away from my grip.

Troy's grip on my shoulders tightened and I could feel him stiffen behind me. Chad paled and looked up at my face, horror-stricken, panic and concern in his large deep brown eyes. It wasn't that bad, was it?

"We scared you…" Chad trailed off,

"So… what? You decided to chew your wrist off?" Troy was angry. I could tell, his voice got deeper, and his grip tightened even more. I would have been affected by how hot his voice sounded right then but I was too scared.

They'd caught me, they were going to tell everyone and I was going to be labeled a freak. I felt my heart speed up and my breath coming quicker. My eyesight became blurry and I couldn't see. Maybe if I just begged them not to tell anyone they wouldn't. Maybe they would leave me alone and tomorrow night I could try again.

Chad was looking at me expectantly; he was waiting for me to say something. He looked up at Troy and understanding suddenly filled his eyes.

"Look Gabs," he took a deep breath, "if you want to talk, I'm here for you, Troy and I both, and we'll listen you don't have to go through this alone. You have friends that love you. We're here for you." He looked into my eyes and I could see how serious he was. He thinks I did this because of my mother, because she was dead. I felt like screaming, why must everyone connect everything I do to my mother's death? If I cry, it's because I'm sad about her death. Did anyone stop to think I just wanted to cry, or maybe, god forbid, I stubbed my toe and it hurt like hell. If I don't eat lunch, and now I'm anorexic, maybe I just wasn't hungry.

I try to kill myself and now it's because I'm suicidal that my mother is dead.

I'm not suicidal. I just don't want to live. What's the point in living anymore? My life is hell and no one cares.

"You don't have to go through any of this alone, we may not know how it feels to lose someone you love," I stopped myself short of telling them both that I didn't lose someone I loved "but, we can help you. You just have to let us."

Chad, the rational one, he's never one for full on confrontation. He'll beat around the bush until you're so tired of hearing him talk that you'll do anything to just make him stop.

Troy on the other hand, he spun me around and looked into my eyes. I loved his eyes, I always have, they're so blue, such a blue that there isn't enough adjectives to describe how blue they actually are. He looked into my eyes and without missing a beat asked "did you do this on purpose?"

"No!" I almost shouted, he raised his eyebrows, clearly not convinced. I shook my head; I couldn't let him find out that I had indeed done this on purpose. "I tripped."

"You tripped?"

"Yeah, when you guys started calling my name and banging on stuff I got a little freaked, I slipped in the shower and snagged my wrist on a broken tile." I was getting good at this lying thing.

He looked over my head and nodded at Chad who walked into the bathroom to check out the shower. I started to panic again. They weren't going to find a broken tile because there wasn't one; the shower was in perfect condition. My father made sure of that. They were going to find out I was lying. They would know everything for sure; Troy was still looking at me, as if waiting for me to crack. But I wasn't going to; I couldn't imagine the things my father would do to me if he knew that I wanted to die.

"She's not lying." I felt like eyes were going to pop out of my head; since when was there a broken tile?

I recovered as quickly as I could and shoved Troy off of me, "don't touch me." I turned around and walked past a shocked Chad to my bedroom.

"Gabs-"

"No!" I whirled on both of them, "You think I did this on purpose? For what, attention? I tripped, you assholes. I don't need your help, I am fine. I'm perfectly okay, you don't need to be concerned, I don't miss my mom, I'm not sick, I'm not suicidal!" I was beyond angry, how could they think that I wanted to do this for attention? As if I didn't get enough attention at school, what with all of the stares and whispers. I don't need any more attention. I am fine. I'm okay and I'll be okay, as long as they leave me alone.

"Gabs, we don't think you did this on purpose, you're jumping to conclusions. We don't think you're any of those things. We're just concerned, everyone deals with loses differently, and well, frankly, we don't really know how you're dealing with this, we just want you to know that we're here for you if you need us." Chad sighed and moved toward me slowly, almost like he was afraid that I was going to bite him.

"Listen, Brie, if you say you tripped and snagged your wrist on a broken piece of tile, then we believe you. It's just that we are concerned. And you can't blame us for being concerned about our best friend." Troy said.

I shook my head, they just don't get it. I would be dead now if it wasn't for them barging into my house. And then they read me so quickly, all of the sudden they know exactly what I was doing and what I was planning on doing. They caught me and I hated them for it.

I was just going to have to be more careful and discrete next time.

I sighed, "Sorry, it's just kind of hard that's all," maybe if I told them what they wanted to hear they would leave.

"We know it's hard, that's why it's important to us that you know we're always here for you, and not just Troy and me, Shar and Ryan, Taylor, Zeke and even Jason. We're all here for you."

"You just have to give us a chance." Troy mumbled looking down at his shoes.

I shook my head slightly, I just wanted them to leave, they don't understand, none of them understand. "What did you want?"

They both looked at me confused for a moment before realization took over their eyes and they smiled. "Can we use you hoop in your backyard? It's dark out and you have that light outside that we don't have at my house?" Chad asked with a bounce.

I snorted, basketball, of course, it's not like they came over just to see how I was doing. They don't care and they never will.

I nodded and they both took off for the back yard like children. I looked down at my wrist; it had stopped bleed and didn't look as bad as it had before now that the blood had stopped flowing.

Three deep cuts were perforated into my skin. Like a mark I can't get rid of.

Tears spilled down my face, I should be dead. My blood should be slowly draining from my body, my tan skin should be becoming pale and my breathing should have stopped.

I should be dead. But I'm not. Why did they have to pick that moment to barge into my house? What did I stop? It wasn't like they would have come into the bathroom, I am a girl, and despite the fact that Chad and Taylor have had sex multiple times, and Troy has slept with multiple girls, I know they wouldn't have come into the bathroom. I was so close to death, I could almost feel the razor blades hit the artery, one small cut to that thing I would have been gone.

I hated myself; I was such a fool, such an idiot. I couldn't live with myself anymore; I was the dumbest of the dumbest. The village idiot. I should be ashamed of myself.

I took a deep breath and shook my shoulders back. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow I would do it regardless. I wouldn't cut myself this time, no, that was too slow, and after tonight, Tory and Chad would probably tell our friends what I did, everyone would be watching me.

I could take a handful of Tylenol; people are always overdosing on those things all the time. It could work. Yeah, that's what I'd do. Tomorrow I would go to the drug store and buy a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol do it tomorrow night.

I smiled, all I had to do was get through tomorrow and then I would be done, I could go peacefully, it would be easy. I almost squealed with excitement.

I couldn't wait.

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><p>To anyone who review; Thank you so much!<p>

So hopefully that was realistic enough, I've never been in the state that Gabriella is in so I'm just going off of what I've read or how I think it would feel.

**If this completely wrong, please tell me I want to make this as realistic as possible.**

Also I didn't check this chapter, so if there are any mistakes I'm sorry.


	4. Touch

**Stolen**

**Chapter Four: Touch**

**Touch: Verb- to bring a bodily part into contact with especially so as to perceive through the tactile sense: handle or feel gently usually with the intent to understand or appreciate**

The first time someone touched me I was five.

He came into my room late at night, I didn't realize it then but he was drunk. He slammed open my bedroom door with a loud bang and fell against the door frame, screaming at me to get out of bed.

I was terrified, I didn't know this man, who was he and why was he telling me what to do.

"Get. Out. Of. Bed!" he screamed at me again, lifting himself up off of the floor, he fell back down on his knees and screamed at me again. I stayed where I was..

The man grabbed onto my pink dresser and pushed himself up and on two very shaky legs walked over to my bed, flopping down like I fish out of water. I shrieked and scooted my body as far away from the bad smelling man as I possibly could without falling out of the bed.

The man lifted his head and smiled at me, grabbing my wrist, "Come 'ere sweetie, I won't hurt you." He slurred and I shook my head clutching my teddy bear to my chest and holding my head high.

His sick smile turned into a frown when I didn't move, "are you afraid?" he asked quietly, a smirk spreading across his thin lips, his green eyes glimmering with happiness.

I clutched my teddy bear tighter to my chest looking at my bedroom door, hadn't my parents heard the loud bang and this man's screams?

I gasped when the man's clammy fingers closed around my right wrist, pulling so hard my elbow popped loud and sharp pain shot through my body and I instantly started crying.

"Shut up!" the man screamed, grabbing my teddy bear and throwing it across the room.

"No" I shouted and tried to break free so I could go after my best friend, but the man grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me back down on the bed, and getting on top of me, his legs on either side of my body.

I struggled as hard as I could, punching him in his stomach and scratching his face a couple of times, but it never worked. I tried blocking his abnormally large hands when they tried to find the buttons on my pink and purple flowered pajamas but he would just slap my hands always with a great force that would leave bruises in the morning. I tried screaming for my mom and dad, but every time I would open my mouth his palm would cover my throat, clenching hard, so hard that I couldn't breathe.

My struggles were futile; he overcame me in the end, slipping off my blue panties running his finger over my most sensitive areas.

My screams were nothing to him; it seemed to egg him on, give him pleasure and after what seemed like hours of struggling and screams I finally realized no one was going to come stop this man from hurting me, so I just stopped.

I body went limp, I closed my eyes, stopping the tears from falling down my cheeks and when it was over the man put the pajamas back on and tucked me into bed, grabbing my teddy bear from the corner of my room, tucking him in beside me and kissed me forehead.

He was just closing the door when he said to me "Don't tell your parents. I'll kill them."

I cried myself to sleep that night.

Later I would find out that the guy who hurt me was my babysitter from next door. He was nineteen at the time and when I was ten he was put away for life because he had raped and killed three girls.

They were all under the age of seven.

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><p>My alarm clock went off at 6:30; I groaned and hit the top of the plastic box as hard as I could before rolling over in bed. I really hated mornings. I hated how bright the sun was, and how the birds always seemed to never stop chirping and how everyone was always so damn cheerful.<p>

But I got out of bed anyways and went to my closet; I was pulling jeans off of the rack when a sharp pain shot through my left wrist. Looking down I saw the three long marks, I hadn't bandaged it up last night because I'd been so tired from trying to finish all of my homework before my father got home. But he'd never come home last night.

It was Friday and I hadn't seen him all week, I didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but I felt happier nonetheless.

I pulled on my jeans and a tee-shirt after my shower, not bothering to even put make up on, just throwing my hair up in a ponytail and brushing my teeth before going downstairs to eat breakfast.

The phone rang as I was deciding between Cheerios and Frosted Flakes, I let it go to voicemail, I didn't like to talk to people in the mornings, and I didn't like noise in the morning.

There was a long beep and then "you're probably still asleep, that's why I didn't call your cell phone, but I just called to tell you that I won't be home until late Sunday night, probably after you've gone to bed. Sorry I haven't called, but you know how work is. We need to talk when I get home Gabriella. Bye." Then a click.

I almost dropped the bowl I was holding. He was coming home soon, what was I going to do? I started to panic, my breathe caught in my throat and I couldn't breathe. My peaceful solitary was going to be invaded and I was terrified. I stumbled over to the counter and shakily placing the bowl on top with a clang.

I couldn't breathe, he was coming home and I would have to face him.

I couldn't breathe, and I wanted to die, maybe I could come home tonight and try again while everyone is at the party.

Yeah I could do that, I never got to the drug store Tuesday because Sharpay had wanted to go shopping and then Troy needed help with his chemistry homework Wednesday and Chad came over after school Thursday. I hadn't had time to do it yet.

But tonight was the perfect time, East high would win the basketball game, it was a given, then everyone with the slightest sense would show up at some party afterwards.

I could go with Sharpay, Ryan and Taylor, congratulate Chad, Troy, Jason, and Zeke on a job well done wait until Taylor and Chad take refuge in a bedroom and Sharpay and Zeke have left for her house. I'll wait until Troy finds a random girl to hook up with and I'll wait until Jason is drunk off his ass, which in all honesty won't take but two hours.

It could work; I wouldn't have to see him.

It will work. It had to work.

* * *

><p>The wildcats had won; 114 to 32.<p>

It was a sad game really, I almost fell asleep on Taylor and we had come to the conclusion that the only reason the other team had gotten 32 points was because Coach Bolton felt sorry for them.

But a lame ass game was still a reason to celebrate to the teenagers of East High.

We ended up at Carl Backhand's house, the party already in full swing at ten o'clock, and it would still be going until the early morning hours, probably until everyone either left or fell asleep in random places around his house.

But I wasn't planning on staying for long; I had something to do that was so much more important than a stupid high school party.

That's why hours later; I was surprised that I hadn't left yet. I was walking around the house, watching as random strangers made out furiously and danced in the massive living room. There was a game of beer pong going on in the kitchen; Jason and Ryan were winning. Sharpay and Zeke were probably having a quickie in the pool shed and Chad was standing on a table in the living room raping the lyrics to an Eminem song even though a Boosie song played in the background. I hadn't seen Troy since we arrived at the party, and I could only imagine which girl he'd picked up with time; in the back of my mind I wondered rather it was a new girl or someone he'd already been with, and then pushed the aching feeling in my stomach away when I saw Taylor leaning against the door frame of the kitchen clutching a beer bottle in her hand and wiping her other hand across her face every so often.

"Taylor?" I put my hand on her shoulder and she jumped.

"Hey…" she droned, wiping her face again, "What's up?"

I looked at her, her shoulders were slumped and her eyes were glassy, like she'd been crying. And that scared me; Taylor never cries. "Are you okay?"

She looked at me, "no" she simply said and took another swig of her beer, "go find Troy, I want to leave." She threw her beer bottle on the ground and stormed out the kitchen heading for the front door.

I watched her retreating back, worried. Something was obviously wrong and if I had to guess it would probably have something to do with the dumbass currently singing a Miley Cyrus song and taking off his clothes.

I asked around for fifteen minutes trying to find Troy and someone finally told me they had seen him go upstairs a few minutes ago.

I checked door to door, constantly barging in on heated make out sessions and on one rare occasion a rather loud quickie, but I closed the door before they could figure out someone had witnessed their exploits.

Just as I was about to give up and just leave and tell Taylor I couldn't find him he walked out of the last door in the hallway, running a hand over his face and jamming his cell phone into his pocket. He leaned against the wall and groaned, throwing his head back and running his hands through his hair.

I felt like I was intruding on a private moment and felt bad, but before I could turn around and leave he spoke; "Brie, what are you doing?"

"Um… Taylor wants to leave, she asked me to find you…" I trailed off, he was looking at me so seriously it made me uncomfortable, his blue eyes burning holes into mine.

"Why doesn't she just leave with Chad?"

"I think they had a fight."

He smiled and pushed off the wall coming over to me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me into his hard chest. My mind was telling me to pull away and leave but for once I listened to my heart and wrapped my arms around his waist burying my face his shirt and soaking in his scent, telling myself to remember this moment as much as I could.

I felt special, even though I knew he had probably just left a sleeping girl in the room he's come out of, but I relished in this moment, I felt safe and happy, two things I hadn't felt in a long time.

And then there was the fact that Troy doesn't hug people. And that made me feel even more special.

But too seen he pulled away and looked down at me, smiling.

"What was that for?"I questioned.

His smiled faltered for a second and if I hadn't been looking I probably would haven't noticed but just as fast he smirked, "What? I can't hug my best friend for no reason"

I looked down; if I was going by my heart I would have said 'Troy you can hug me anytime you want'. But I don't trust my heart, I trust my head so I said; "no."

His eyes darkened for a second and he smiled again, but I could tell it was fake.

For some reason I felt bad. I didn't do anything wrong, I just told him the truth. If he couldn't handle the truth, then why did he ask a question like that?

Troy sighed and slung his arm around my shoulders before leading me down the stairs, "Let's go find Taylor and take her home. We can do damage control in the morning."

I wanted to groan, I'd made it through another night. Why couldn't life just take me? Why did I have to do all the work just to be disappointed in the end?

* * *

><p><strong>So it's three in the morning, but I wanted to get this written and updated.<strong>

**I worked hard on this, it didn't really come out the way I wanted, but I guess you get what you get.**

**This is kind of the start of Gabriella's struggles, I'm going to be getting into her past some, and it's going to get dark and it might offend some but it's a crucial part in the story. But of course I'll try to balance it out with some fluff between Gabriella and Troy.**

**What do you guys think her dad is like? And how do you think her mother died? I'm really curious as to what you guys think.**

**It makes me really happy that you all are reading, but you know what makes me even more happy? Reviews. (:**


	5. Support

**Stolen**

**Chapter 5: Support**

**Support: verb- To bear the weight of, especially from below/to hold in position so as to keep from falling, sinking, or slipping.**

It wasn't until I was eleven that my life spun out of control.

Up until then rarely anything bad happened, other than the occasional fall off of my bike or scraped knee. I played soccer, and would occasionally join Chad when he was out front with his dad playing basketball. I was a tom boy and I embraced it.

My mother hated it; she had always tried to squeeze me into frilly dresses and shoes with massive bows on them. My father was my biggest fan, he would practice with me for hours at a time, and he would drive me to the practices after school and stand off to the side talking with the other devoted parents. At my soccer matches he would run up and down the sidelines with a camera in hand and cheer me and my team mates on.

He was involved in everything I did. He was my best friend and my confidant. We would play pranks on my mother when she wasn't looking and when they thought I had gone to bed they would turn into the teenagers they use to be, kissing and touching, loving words exchanged during quick kisses.

That all changed when my father got a promotion.

Now, I must point out that my father was never a harsh man, at least never toward my mother or me.

It first happened one night, late, long after my bed time, I wasn't supposed to be up, but I had had a bad dream, and all I wanted to do was curl up in my parent's bed and sleep, I didn't find them in their bedroom so I went down stairs to see if they were in the kitchen or living room, asleep like they sometimes were.

I clutched my hands closer to my chest, peering around the dark corners. I heard muffled voices and started toward the kitchen.

My mother was crying clutching her hands over her head, "you're never home anymore!" she shouted.

"I'm making money! I'm supporting this family in ways that you could never!" he shouted back, throwing his hands into the air.

"You're neglecting your family! You think bringing home a bigger paycheck is the same as having you home at night eating dinner with your wife and daughter?"

"You ungrateful bitch! Don't you dare bring Gabriella into this! I love her! I'm doing this for all of us, do you honestly think I like being away from the people I Love for so long at a time? I don't, but this is all going to work out in the long run!" his voice rose with each word and his face had become red.

"You bastard!" she shrieked, "Don't you dare talk to me like that! I am not being ungrateful, it is not ungrateful to want my husband home and in bed with me at night, it is not ungrateful for me to dream of the marriage that we use to have!" my mother's body shook and her arms wrapped around her body, as if she was trying to hold herself together.

It scared me to see my parents like this; I had always thought they were perfect and now I didn't know what to think. I was slowly backing away from the door when I heard a loud smack, my mother clutched her cheek, a surprised choking sob escaped her throat and she stared at him, horrified.

Her shoulders slumped and tears streamed down her cheeks, my father collapsed in a stool by the island and pulled her to him, "I'm sorry," he whispered stroking her bright red cheek, kissing it softly, as if that would make it all better. "I was just angry, I won't do it again, I'm sorry."

I ran back to my room as fast as I could, I would rather sleep in my own bed and have thousands of nightmares than go back downstairs and face the one based in reality. So I got climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head and clutched my ratty old teddy bear to my chest. I didn't know how to processes what had just happened, my parents had always loved each other and my father had never raised a hand to either of us.

I feel asleep that night telling myself it wouldn't happen again and that everything would be okay, but something in my gut was telling me that this wasn't the end.

* * *

><p>Troy knocked on my door at nine in the morning with a latte in one hand and a doughnut in the other.<p>

"It's Saturday," he said when I asked him what he was doing at my house.

"Yeah, I know its Saturday, what I meant was why are you here at nine in the morning. After a party no less, shouldn't you be nursing a hangover?" I asked dropping down on the sofa in the living room and pulling a blanket over my body; he'd woke me up and I really didn't feel like walking up the staircase to change, I was too lazy.

It was the weekend after all.

Troy shed his leather jacket and sat down beside me, nudging my feet off of the couch and onto the floor, "we need to organize a plan."

I took the doughnut he held out to me and sipped my latte slowly, "we have a plan that needs organizing?"

"Do you clear out your head every night before you go to bed?"

"Like Dumbledore in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?"

Troy looked stumped for a second, his eyebrows furrowed in that adorable way that they always do when he's confused, "You're a colossal nerd, you know that right?"

"So I've been told." I smiled and finished off my doughnut, leaning over and wiping my glazed encrusted fingers off on his shirt.

"Stop, this is black shirt!" he shouted with a laugh, "do you have any idea what Sharpay would do to me if she saw this?" he held out the corner of his shirt that was, sure enough, covered in white doughnut glaze.

I stifled a smile and looked away, my stomach fluttered and i hoped the my face didn't flush under his gaze.

I heard him clear his throat and i turned to look at him; he was brushing off the corner of his shirt with a napkin. "We need to do damage control."

"Damage control?" I sorted through my brain for anything I could think of that needed fixing.

"Taylor and Chad." he stated. "Or let me guess, you forgot."

I shrugged and took another sip of my latte, feigning innocence, because the truth is i didn't forget, I just chose not to do anything about it; they'll work it out, they always do.

"Why should we repair their relationship?" he opened his mouth to say something- probably that we'd be good friends by helping them- but before he could say anything i cut him off, "watch, it's probably not even that serious. Taylor probably just caught him talking to a girl and interpenetrated, we both know that happens all the time."

But before i could even finish what i was saying Troy was already shaking his head back and forth. "No, it's more serious than that,"

"And how would you know?"

"I just do, it's like a best friend thing, you know? like i just know when something is wrong with him, it's like telepathy or something." and he said it so nonchalant that i had to laugh at him.

"Troy, that's stupid."

"No, it isn't it's a bond that only brothers have, and Chad and I, we're brothers." he takes a sip of his drink, "from different mothers. Now go get dressed and I'll drop you off at Taylor's house."

I sighed and threw the blanket off of my body and stood up off the couch and stretched my arms over my head, something caught in the corner of my eye and my breath caught in my throat.

It was a picture of her. And me. And him. A small picture hung in a gold frame above the fireplace, a picture that looks as though, to the naive eye, that we would be, would have been, a charming, perfect family. My mother a father standing behind me, my father in a light blue shirt unbuttoned at the top, his right hand resting on my shoulder. My mother standing to his left clutching his left hand earnestly, a bright smile on her face, looking impeccably perfect and every bit motherly in a navy blue tweed knee-length pencil skirt and white ruffled silk top. Me, in one of the rare moments that my mother actually convinced me to wear a dress, my hair pulled back and a wide smile on my face.

I was eleven, and I still didn't have the slightest clue how wrong my life would become and how much my parents actually hated each other.

I drew a deep shaky breath, my knees buckling beneath my body, chest heaving with sobs I didn't know I had left in me, tears streaming down my face, landing on the floor with a _thud_.

I heard Troy say my name, roll off the couch and land next to me, his arms sliding around my body and pulling me against his chest, "what's wrong? Brie... hey... Brie, what's wrong?"

He tried to push me back, but I clung to his shoulders, gripping his shirt in my fists and hanging on as hard as I could. I couldn't even understand why I was crying, I'd seen that picture a ton of times, I'd seen him hang it up, remembered what he'd said to me when he did and how he'd looked at me before he'd left the room.

But I couldn't seem to stop the tears and I could understand how just two seconds before I'd looked at the picture I'd been laughing with Tory, and now I was crying in his arms.

My eyes dried and I stopped crying, but it was as if my mind wasn't done torturing me, every time I stopped crying flashes of memories, good and bad, would pass in front of my eyes and a fresh batch of tears would work they're way down my face and onto Troy's shirt. And all the while he held me, brushing my hair back from my face, clutching me tighter every time a sob came over me, and telling me that everything was going to be okay.

And when I finally calmed down, I still didn't move. I was so embarrassed that I had just cried like that. In front of someone, nonetheless. I hadn't cried, I'd never in front of someone before, and I'd certainly never cried over my life.

"Are you going to tell me what that was all about?" Troy's soft voice over me and I instantly relaxed, he just had that automatic effect on me.

"I don't know..." I mumbled and buried my face further into his shirt, inhaling his scent.

His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer to his body and resting his chin on top of my head. "you don't know if you're going to tell me, or you don't know what that was all about?"

that was another thing that struck me about Troy, we were close, but not as close as Chad and I, or Troy and Sharpay, but it seemed like he knew me more than anyone.

"I don't know what it was about, I mean one minutes I'm fine and the next I can't breath and I can't stand, and I don't even have time to hold back the tears before I start sobbing." I pull back and wipe my face with my hands, turning my back to him. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have had to see me like that."

"What are you talking about?" his arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back toward him, "Why are you sorry?"

"I usually don't cry. And if I do, I never cry in front of someone.' I shook my head, ashamed of myself, I was so stupid, if I hadn't of stretched and just gone upstairs I probably wouldn't have seen that damn picture and I wouldn't have embarrassed myself. I looked up at him, his dark blue eyes so sincere and gentle, his eyebrows scrunched up, confused. "I got your shirt wet. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for crying. It's okay, I don't mind, it was just a shirt after all. I have plenty of them," he laughed, but I could tell it was forced and he was still confused, only trying to pretended like everything was okay for my benefit.

"I'm stupid, It's whatever. I don't even have a reason to be crying." I shook my head when he started to protest. "no, I'm fine really, let's just go help our friends." I started to move out of his arms and stand up.

"Brie-"

"Troy, I'm fine, really, just leave it alone." I said a little to forcefully, and any other time I would have felt bad for snapping at him when I knew all he wanted to do was help me, but all I wanted was to go up to my room and get away from him, because the smell of his breath, and the feel of his arms, and his scent, and the way he held me when I cried scared me. I don't want to feel like this. Because every time I felt like this someone got hurt or everything fell apart.

It was just better if I didn't start to think of Tory as anything other than a good friend, because he doesn't feel the same way about me and I wouldn't be able to live when I lost him. Because I would.

Everyone I love leaves me.

* * *

><p><strong>I. am. so. sorry. It's been way to long, but in my defense it's only the 5th week and junior year is already kicking my ass.<strong>

**hopefully, the massive amount of fluff makes up for my absence. (:**

**thanks for sticking with me and reading (:**


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